


What the Trantor Pigeons Heard

by ricca_riot



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BFFs, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Kylo in a suit, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fill, feeding pigeons together, granddaddy issues, half-baked bread puns, stopping the end of the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricca_riot/pseuds/ricca_riot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to fill the prompt: "Imagine [Kylo and Rey] meeting somewhere and sitting on a bench and feeding the ducks while trying to figure out how to avoid the end of the universe." Because neither one takes the end of the known galaxy lightly. It's a nice place to live. They've grown attached. Inspired by Chapter 9 of Good Omens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Trantor Pigeons Heard

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not Master TerryP and these characters don't divide that neatly into Crowly and Azirphale, but damn it, I tried.

They meet in an artificial piece of green and blue on Trantor, a low bronze bench by a footpath, overlooking the city. Birds flock to them as soon as they sit down, recognizing the awkward hunched posture and carefully chosen disguises as two individuals who should not be, but are, meeting in public, and have a high probability of using 'feeding the birds' as a reason to linger.

It does not pay to underestimate the intelligence of your average pigeon on Trantor. They are, by necessity, a savvy lot.

"I have a plan." It's not a great opening line, but then again, he hasn't had very much practice. He hasn't had much practice sitting on a park bench on Trantor feeding pigeons, either, but at least he's getting better at that one.

Rey shakes her head, picking an over-large crust apart with her fingers and tossing it to two smaller birds on the edge of the crowd, frowning minutely when they are shortly thereafter mobbed. "Do you know what his plan is, this time?"

Kylo Ren looks vaguely affronted by the implication. "Kill all the Jedi, rule the known universe, the same as always. Snoke's not big on thinking creatively."

"I meant specifically. Are you even taking this seriously?" Rey props her goggles on her forehead to glare at him more a little more effectively.

"Do you think I'd be here, of all places, if I wasn't taking it seriously?" The tie around his neck itches; he tugs it loose and sits back. God but he hates civilian garb. Still, if you're meeting for a clandestine meeting in a public environment, it's best not to go strolling through town in a mask that screams to the high heavens that the First Knight of Ren is making ready to paint the town. That sort of thing could prompt an awkward response.

"So what is the plan, then?" Rey asks again, patience fraying as the bag of stale bread between them dwindles.

Kylo eyes their surroundings before speaking. Even the so-called human children playing a hundred yards away could be hi-tech surveillance drones, or cleverly disguised Drall spies. He frowns, narrows his eyes and the hellions and reaches out with the Force. Definitely human children, and their watcher is giving him a very suspicious scowl. Rey clears her throat and draws his attention back to their conversation.

"Well, the thing about it, the First Order, yeah? It's all Snoke controlling it, and no one knows where he is, what his real end game is, or even what species he is." Rey freezes and he feels the shock and rage roll off her in waves. The birds scatter.

"You don't know where he is?!" Her voices rises in volume and pitch; she bolts to her feet. "You don't know what he is?! How can you not know these things?! You're his apprentice! You said you had a plan!"

"You're causing a scene," Kylo points out, mildly. The look she shoots him could freeze the heart of a blue star and she thumps him on the shoulder harder than is strictly necessary, but sits and tries to lure the terrified pigeons back out with a dusting of crumbs. "And I do have a plan. A good one." He insists again, rather unnecessarily and only slightly put out by her antagonism. Leaning in close, so the strands of hair that refuse to be corralled tickle his nose, he whispers. "I know where Snoke is."

"But you just said-"

"No one in the general, common knowledge sense," Kylo clarifies and decides that the conversation probably should have started here. "But yeah, I've got the system, the planet, even the general coordinates to his temple." He takes a moment to visualize it, the location, the name, all the intel he's gleaned. It's too dangerous to speak aloud, but she can pick it out of his head, if she hasn't done so already.

Rey's leaning forward on the bench, precarious, almost off balance, extending a long thin scrap towards a prospective avian consumer. She tilts her face up to look at him. "And you're sure it's right?"

Kylo smirks at her and taps his temple, "The Force doesn't lie." He turns his attention and directs just a touch of power towards the recalcitrant pigeon, pushing it forward towards the girl who in some lights, when he squints, is the closest thing he has to a friend. She scowls at his interference with her seduction of her target to the Rye side of the Force. The bird waddles away with all due speed when he releases his grip on it.

"I almost had that one," Rey wrinkles her nose and tosses the scrap on the ground, dusting her hands on her dirty green coverall. "I mean it, Kylo, how do you know this isn't a test? That Snoke's not fooling you, testing your loyalty?" She stares out at the city stretching beyond the horizon. "I assume you're actual plan is actually to take fighters to that location and atomize it? Kind of hard to cover a trail like that."

He admires her mind, the way it maneuvers like a star fighter, up and down, backwards and forwards with no apparent loss in velocity, as though the very laws of physics have to push themselves to keep up. He hadn't thought about it as a test from Snoke, either. "Huh," Kylo mulls it over. "Does it matter?" He glares death at a pigeon grown too bold, moving to peck at the leather of his shoes, sends it retreating with scorched tail feathers. Civilian clothing is awful, but he could get used to the loafers.

"Does it matter?" Rey echoes in disbelief and hops up, pacing in front of the bench with energy that can't be contained. "Of course it matters!" She hisses, running her hands over her rapidly deteriorating up-do in agitation and then pauses, turning on her heal and jabbing her finger into his forehead. "Is this about your grandfather, again?"

"No."

"Liar," She grinds her fingertip against the ridge of bone and then drops her hand to her side, eyes darting around their surroundings, lingering on the children and the matron he had been so suspicious of earlier. "I don't want to have this conversation here. Let's go."

He trusts her instincts, and so stands, brushing his hands carefully against each other, shaking white crumbs off a black suit jacket and follows. "Go where?"

"Somewhere else," Rey rolls her eyes at him, a habit that reminds him very uncomfortably of Leia, and grabs him by the wrist. "My ships in a hangar, about a click west of here."

It's easier to let her drag him along in her wake. He's good at that: following the most powerful person who will have him along. It's not yet worked out in his favor, but maybe this time will be different. Rey, at least, is different. She's shorter, and female, to start with, it's not hard to keep up with her as she trots across the walkways. Would it be such a bad thing to go through life like this? Kylo decides he doesn't want to think about that; definitely getting ahead of himself with thoughts like those. He doesn't notice when she stops short and almost careens into her, jostling her shoulder.

"Crap," Rey lets go of his wrist, bracing herself on his arm as the solid wall of black wool that's Kylo Ren jostles her back. "First Order soldiers. What are they doing here?"

It takes Kylo a moment to realize the question isn't rhetorical. "Shore leave? This is a Core planet." It's the first time he's heard her swear.

Rey cocks her head to the side, pushing through the crowd of minds looking for something. "They're coming this way." Her eyes flash with panic for an instant and then it's gone, subsumed under her training. "I have a blaster. You?"

"Lightsaber?" He doesn't need the Force to know that is exactly the answer she isn't looking for. "What? I'm not going to draw it here. Obviously." Kylo Ren nods to the crowded street behind them.

Her face goes white under its tan and Rey flattens herself against the wall. "They are looking for me," She hisses, eyes snapping and drags him closer, shielding herself from view with his body. "Tell me you didn't know they'd be here."

The hand not closed in a vise around his wrist digs in a bulky pocket and he can just make out the snout of a blaster pressed against the cloth aimed up at his torso. He's about seventy percent sure she's bluffing; she can't shoot him and use him as a meat shield, but even if she's not, well, better her than Snoke, right? "First Order spies found you in Maz Kanata's. Why would this place be any different?" With his free hand he touches her hair, tucks her head under his chin. His hand tingles a little bit as Rey releases his wrist and wraps her arm around his waist. She's shaking, but slips into the deep breathing of meditation. He follows along out of habit, inhaling when she inhales, holding and releasing the spent air in tandem. They don't attract much more than a wolf whistle as the troopers pass and Kylo presses his mouth to her hair and lets her go once the way is clear.

"My ship, now," Rey doesn't look nearly as angry as he might have expected and she takes his hand, jogging through the heavy crowd as he nudges people out of their way. "Oh, stop that," The scolding is tempered with an unwilling smile. "We're supposed to be subtle."

"This is subtle and efficient," Kylo protests and marks it as a victory when Rey lets the matter drop, winding their way around the hangar's interior to a familiar rusted out Corellian light freighter. "Really? You brought the Falcon? I thought we were doing subtle."

"That's not the Falcon," Rey wrinkles her nose in disgust and yanks down a ladder leading up into the ship's belly, clambering up the rungs. "It's the YT-1125 model, almost completely unmodded. It's perfectly subtle. Now come on."

Kylo doesn't follow. "You should get going before they lock down the air traffic. Get back to your people, figure out what you need to do." He turns to go and chokes as he steps forward. His hands fly to his throat, it's not the Force, but his nearly forgotten necktie, stretching behind him to the thieving fingers of a scrawny woman dangling from the ladder by an ankle.

"Don't go." Her words are soft, her eyes sad, even on her upside down face.

Taking a deep breath, Kylo turns back to her, arms heavy with reluctance as he untangles the strip of silk from her fingers. "Snoke will know something's up if I don't return to him." He's touching her face, the high curve of her cheek before he's fully aware.

"Screw Snoke," Rey traps her hand against his face, winding her fingers through his. "He's as good as dead. Even if he's not on that planet, we will find him and we will kill him. He doesn't get to take you down with him."

She'd give Hux a run for his oratory skills, that's for certain. As far as parting words go, those are pretty good. Kylo Ren takes the half step forward that removes the distance between him and brings his face slowly toward hers. She's actually the perfect height for this, ridiculous as the tableau is, and he cups his hands around her face, holding her still and pressing his lips against hers. Not his brightest move, but it's not like he'll live to suffer for this particular sin, at least. "He already did," The words whisper across her parted lips as she strains to reach him, resume the contact.

"Oh, eat bantha shit," Rey kicks off the ladder and somehow lands behind him, crowding him aggressively as though she could herd him into the ship with her smaller stature.

His shoulder aches when she slugs him again and her rage runs riot around them both. When did he stop trying to incite these feelings in her? Now it just makes him feel tired. "Why do you care?"

"Why don't you?" Rey drags him down by the neck tie, he's never wearing one of these ever again, that's for sure, and shoves against his chest. "You do shitty things, you don't get to just clock out and make someone else fix them for you. You," She struggles, violently for words, and thumps his chest again when she fails. "You're so strong. You could do so much. You want honorable death in combat, I'm sure the Resistance can find something, but please," She wraps her arms around his waist again, burying her face into his chest as her voice breaks. "Don't go, Ben."

His heart shatters into a thousand pieces and Ben Solo leans heavily against the girl losing her mind into the front of his shirt. Her response is downright bizarre, but so, he supposes, is his. Certainly he can't trust his voice, his thoughts right now, all is chaos. Terror grips him, freezing the marrow of his bones when he feels her intent, her absolute refusal to make this choice for him. No Force persuasion or loss of consciousness, no kidnapping or hostage-taking, not even the initiation of a last, and still somehow only their second, kiss farewell.

He totally, really, truly does not know how to handle this. Ben Solo is out of his fucking depth here.

She's still holding onto him, but he feels her grip slackening and, dear god no, she's stepping away, face turned low. "Just, think about it, okay?" Rey's voice is thick and she steps around him, keeping her face averted, back straight and proud as she moves back towards her ship.

Her footsteps echo as she walks away and somehow that is what stops the wild careen of his thoughts. Rubber soles tapping on concrete. There's no space in his head for thinking about what a plebian sort of thing that is, what a stupid factor to turn a decision like this on. There's just her wrist swinging through down by her hip and his fingers closing around it, turning her around and dragging her back to him. "Rey."

She spins like a fighter, eyes bright like twin suns in her tear-streaked face and she collides with him, chest to chest, lacing her arms around his neck and stretching on her toes and he's kissing her, a man born again.

"Ships will be locked to deck in five minutes." A mechanical operator's voice rings out over the announcement system.

"Shit," Ben's face hurts from smiling, the expression sits oddly on muscles ill-used to such contortion and he grabs Rey around the waist, tossing her up the ladder to the ship that is apparently not the Millennium Falcon and scrambling up after her.

They break atmo with seconds to spare and he just can't stop touching her from where he sits in the co-pilot's seat, following her tersely barked orders. The brush of her arm as she shrugs out of the top half of her coverall, nudging him aside with her shoulder to reach across the wide dashboard for a bag of dried fruit wedged against the windshield. The short bursts of contact make him crazy, or maybe he's already crazy and this is some upside down backwards ascent out of madness, but he won't bet on it. It's enough, well, it's not, but it's something, and she doesn't seem to object when he leans into each fleeting point of contact.

Rey more or less ignores him until the stars blur in the transit of hyperspace and then she twists in the captain's chair to look him over. "I like the suit," She says at length.

"It's growing on me." Their banter, her voice, helps a little, gives him a shake to balance out the enormity of what he's done. This was definitely not the plan. Deliberately he eyes the stained white undershirt and the sleeves of her bulky engineer's clothing knotted around her waist and he wants to say something snarky, something clever about her choice of disguise, but the damn words just don't come and he reaches for her hand, twining their fingers together.

Apparently she only needs one to pull them out of hyperspace, a jolting deceleration and then they are coasting through the vacuum of space and the distant stars. "It's going to be okay." Her smile is unfathomable to him; he can almost believe her when she says things like that.

Finally, it feels like he's managed to do something right. Even if it's just once, perhaps it will be enough.


End file.
